Survival
by THIS-IS-NOT-SPARTA
Summary: A school trip turned horribly wrong and an incident that leaves them fighting for their lives. Will Matthew and Gilbert be able to reconcile their differences when failing to do so could mean death? Mature for a reason!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, I'm trying to get back into writing again after a writers block that has lasted FOREVER~! Please let me know if you like this and if it's worth continuing, I really love the story idea but I'm struggling with motivation right now T_T As usual I don't own anything, nothing at all...do i even exist...(yes, yes i do)**

 **Enjoy!**

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Gilbert frowned over at the blonde next to him, anger building every time their knees touched, which was constantly as they were cramped together in flight seats. The fact that they had no seats in front of them did very little to alleviate the building irritation. It was hard to imagine that just a week ago the two had been overjoyed about travelling next to each other for both journeys of their final-year international school trip. Matthew exhaled, looking over at his platinum haired companion with pity in his pale violet eyes. Gilbert grunted and narrowed his scarlet eyes once he caught the Canadian staring. Neither said anything, but as soon as the flight assistant announced that it was safe to remove seatbelts Gilbert stormed off towards the bathroom, eyes suspiciously redder than usual. Matthew sighed as he gazed over his friend's empty seat. He wondered if he could even think of Gilbert as a friend anymore. Things were so complicated between them now.

'I love you.' How could three simple words have brought so much pain. Gilbert spent some time pacing around the front of the plane. The walkways were narrow so he couldn't do it for long without people becoming irate. Reluctantly the anxious red-eyed man made his way back to his seat.

"So is this it then?" Matthew asked, somewhat bitterly. "No talking, you not even looking at me," his eyes were starting to prickle. Discomfort built from the depths of the German's stomach, his shoulders rose with the sensation. He inhaled defensively, desperate to take his anger out on his Canadian counterpart.

"Yeah, I guess it is." There was so much resentment in his voice that Matthew was taken aback. His friend had never spoken to him like that before.

Matthew looked down at his knees, "It's not my fault."

The laugh that followed was forced and grating. "You keep telling yourself that."

The blonde went silent, refusing to acknowledge the provocations from the man next to him. He didn't need Gilbert; they hadn't even known each other that long. They'd been close, sure, but only because neither of them had anyone else. Loneliness was a powerful motivator to make random friends.

So instead they sat in silence, mostly. Gilbert huffed and sighed every time Matthew moved or breathed louder than usual. It was worsened by their close proximity, stuffed side-by-side in tight aircraft seats, and the Canadian kept glancing at the emergency exit door in front of them with a sense of longing.

It was hard for the usually calm Canadian to suppress his irritation when the silvery-blonde man was being so abrasive. He thought back over the past year of them knowing each other, he'd never expected to feel pain because of his dearest friend. He had to admit to himself that it hurt, being treated with such anger, such bitterness. It was too much. He wasn't used to being looked at with such venom. His life had been spent avoiding conflict wherever he could. It wasn't fair, he thought to himself as Gilbert rolled his eyes when Matthew adjusted his glasses. He was about to reach for a bottle of water from the bag at his feet when he heard a tense exhale from his 'friend'.

"Are you going to be like this the whole fligh-" His sentence trailed off as he noticed Gilbert wasn't even looking at him, but was staring wide-eyed out the window. The plane swayed violently and it was then that Matthew noticed the streak of grey smoke that passed suspiciously close to the wing. "What the hell was that?"

A small flash of light from somewhere far below and a sudden thud and the plane began to careen sideways and drop. The plane was falling out of the sky. There was a horrendous noise which Matthew suddenly saw out of the window was the wing tearing off the side of the plane. The air inside the cascading metal tube began to thin. The weight of the remaining wing pulled the plane down horizontally, and unprepared passengers fell, crashing into the opposite side. Matthew's stomach dropped like it did on big roller-coasters, and he felt himself falling, but he didn't move. Strong, shaking arms were wrapped around his midriff. Gilbert was clinging on to him, seatbelt holding him in place. The blonde stared in horror as heavy luggage fell from the racks, raining down on the people below him with sickening thuds and splatters of blood. There was screaming. There was another noise, metal straining hard, and their falling prison began to shake violently.

He began to pray. There was no-one he had in mind specifically, but surrounded by the screams of strangers and friends, fellow classmates and teachers as they fell and broke in the surrounding wreckage, he thought it a good idea to pray. The shuddering got worse and worse, the noise grew until it drowned out the screams. Suddenly the tube jolted once again and began to twist, righting itself the normal way up. The other wing was gone but the tearing had ripped a small hole in the wall and bodies were grotesquely falling through and disappearing into the unknown. They were now plummeting diagonally but at least vertically. Gilbert let go of Matthew and released his belt, staring out of the window. Land looked a lot closer now. Matthew could distinguish treetops and the ocean in the distance. There was so much screaming. Gilbert was out of his seat and standing by the emergency exit. They were getting closer to the ground. Closer, Matthew believed, to death. There was a grinding noise and the emergency door was gone. There was a force that pulled him forward but his grip on the seat was stronger. The air was so thin, everything was spinning but it wasn't the plane. He was so dizzy.

There was something bright and orange somewhere in his vision, suddenly a hand grabbing his jacket and he felt himself being pulled. The edges of his vision were going black but he could feel himself falling. Had Gilbert just pushed him out of the plane? The air whipped around him but he had to close his eyes, the pressure was too great. He expected to feel himself lost in the abyss flying to his death, but he was sitting on something soft. His eyes flew open to see Gilbert shoving something into his arms, which he clung to, and then he was pulling something. They were outside the plane. They were attached to the side of it. His head was spinning as he clung to a handle beside him, sometimes on the seat sometimes hovering above it as they were pulled, ever faster, towards the ground. The tree-tops were almost touching them now. Whatever Gilbert did, they were wrenched free of the plane and suddenly they were falling. He shut his eyes. A warm body was on top of him, clinging to him tightly. A voice in his ear spoke in rapid German, voice broken and afraid. The wind whipped around them, it felt like they were being pulled in every direction at once. Matthew could feel himself vomiting.

There was a lurch and suddenly it was cold. They'd landed. The Canadian sat up and stared around, they'd landed in what he'd thought was the ocean but was in fact a large river. He heard his German friend laughing with relief behind him but it stopped as they saw the large, burning tube of what had been their plane. It was still falling, just ahead of them. Matthew pushed his glasses closer to his face, trying to force away the darkness that was invading the edges of his vision. There was a strange sound coming from the tube, a sort of crackling. Suddenly Matthew's face was pressed into the rubber and thin layer of seawater of the life-raft that saved them as a loud bang shook him to his very core. Suddenly his vision failed, and just before he lost consciousness he heard the man above him screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

"I can't believe we get to share a room for the whole trip! I thought the selection process was completely random." Matthew dropped his bag by the door and looked around their room. It was a standard cheap hotel room, dated furnishings and a general smell of damp. The twin beds looked older than he was. Still, it was clean and it was their home for the entirety of the trip. He looked over at Gilbert who was still standing in the doorway with a gentle smile and eyes that betrayed a thousand secrets. "You had something to do with this, didn't you?" The German man shrugged, finally entering the room with his own suitcase.

"Maybe I paid a visit to a certain teacher in charge of room allocation and expressed intense concern about me not being able to concentrate with a room-mate that will encourage my bad behaviour...I also had a loud conversation with Francis around her about how I was __so__ worried about you because you were being bullied and I didn't want to say who but they were coming on the trip too and there was a chance you could be paired with them."

Matthew snorted, looking through all the cupboards in the room. "People would have to notice me to pick on me, you're the only bully in my life." The silver haired man gasped, clutching at his chest in mock-hurt.

"Me? How could you accuse me of such a thing? I am nothing but wonderful towards you."

"Oh, so it was wonderful of you to start shaking your water bottle by my ear as soon as I said I needed the bathroom when the seatbelt lights had just come on?" Gilbert made a vague hand gesture and grinned proudly. "And was it __wonderful__ of you to lie to me and tell me that you get a secret food menu for signing up to a free in-flight membership to a club, leading me to ask the air-hostess if I could join the mile-high club mid flight or whether I had to wait until the end?" Gilbert fell onto his chosen bed, giggling maniacally. "See, you're a bully!"

"Ah, you love me really." Gilbert sang, batting his eyelashes at his Canadian friend. The blonde put his finger to his lips in thought, noticing the way his friend glanced over them hungrily.

"Maybe I will if you let me have the bed by the window..."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and got up, sighing heavily. "You're so high-maintenance." He acted like he didn't want to, but they both knew he would always do whatever would make Matthew happiest. The blonde had known about his friends crush for a while, not that the German man realised. It was really obvious. He felt guilty for encouraging it, flirting back with the other man constantly, but he liked the attention, liked feeling attractive. Liked the fact that the most popular and desired guy in school wanted him. It wasn't his fault he didn't return his feelings, it was just that he joked too much and never took anything seriously. Plus he was so loud...and Matthew had never really dated a guy before and even though he figured he was gay he was more attracted to refined people. Gilbert's friend Francis, for example, was more the type that Matthew would love to date. Beautiful Francis...Maybe he'd ask him out at last when he got back...

Got back...

Matthew jolted awake with ice running through his veins. He was still being pressed into the wet bottom of the raft. "Gil, dude get off you're hurting me." There was no response. "Hey..." He tried to sit up, feeling a large weight slide off him and land heavily beside him on the raft meant for 12 people. "Gil?" His usually platinum hair was browned with dirt and grime, and there was something dark on the side of his jacket. He got closer, smelling something metallic in the air. "Blood?" But he couldn't see a wound. He knelt over his friend and carefully turned him. He cried out, not words but a noise of shock and agony. Along his friend's back was a deep gouge, oozing blood. Bits of metal were still stuck in the wound and his shirt was crisp with blood that had already dried. Shrapnel from the explosion must have hit him. He frantically tried to find a pulse, breathing, anything. Any sign that his friend was still alive.

"...Fuck." It was said so softly that the blonde nearly missed it. He gasped and looked hopefully into his friend's face, searching for any sign of consciousness. But he was still unconscious. Still, he was alive. Stupid and vulgar as ever, but alive. The Canadian looked around the raft to see how far they were from land. There was a small bank coming up that they were drifting close to, but the tide of the river would pull them past. The Canadian thought fast, grabbing the end of a strip of rope that had held the raft to the side of the plane, he clambered over the side. There was about a foot drop before he plunged into icy water. It came up to his shoulders, and occasionally splashed over his head. Still holding onto the rope, he pulled and stepped towards the bank. The riverbed was not solid, and wet mud engulfed his feet. He slid on the ground, going nowhere. Now he was starting to sink into the mud. Each pull sending his feet deeper. The water was up to his chin now, occasionally splashing into his mouth and making him cough. He began to panic. He screamed, causing him to breathe in a mouthful of water and choke. He couldn't catch his breath. His feet were sinking deeper. The water reached his bottom lip and he couldn't catch his breathe. He struggled frantically, crying. He tried to just breathe through his nose but his breath was too frantic. He was going to drown. His 21 years of life were over before they had even begun. He pulled on the rope and tried desperately to pull himself up on the raft but he couldn't grip properly. He swallowed water with every breath. His lungs burned, his chest and legs in agony. There was also a sudden pain in his scalp that he was too panicked to understand.

And then suddenly he could breathe.

He grabbed on to his lifeline desperately, clinging with all the strength left in his body. He looked up and saw the pale, pained face of his friend. Shaking, muscular arms clung desperately to his clothing. The older man was too weak to lift him fully out of the water but it was enough. With Gilbert holding him just above the water's surface, Matthew was able to drag them towards a tree poking out at an angle from the bank. He grabbed it with both arms and wrapped his legs around. Using his legs to keep his place he wrapped the rope around the thin tree several times and tied it in place. When he was certain it was secure he clambered out of the water and threw himself down onto the bank, crying. His heart and lungs burned with activity and he began to vomit up some of the copious amounts of water he had swallowed.

"Mat-thew!" An injured Gilbert was trying to make his way out of the raft but he was shaking badly and couldn't appear to stand properly. The younger man got up and ran to him, helping him get to land gently. "There's a first aid pack on the side," He held up a shaky finger pointing to the raft. Matthew understood and ran to it, seeing it tied to the inside wall of the raft. He brought it back and sat behind Gilbert on the sandy bank. "We're going to need to pull that in after, you can use the top to collect water. Plus we can sleep under it if we flip it upside down." Matthew swallowed hard, the reality of their situation finally beginning to dawn.

"We're really stuck out here..." Gilbert nodded but didn't say anything. "Do you think there are people around?" He looked around them. Ahead was the river, wide and strong, and on the other side a small bank that went into trees. The same behind them, trees. Towards the bank they were grouped thinly, foliage growing in abundance, but they thickened as the forest got deeper. Huge 30 ft trees with giant leaves that blocked the sun. Looking into the rainforest was pointless as it was just darkness.

"I don't know. Let's assume not." His words were quiet and suddenly the Canadian remembered how badly his friend was hurt.

"Quick, you need to take your top off!" It was reassuring that Gilbert laughed lewdly at that, turning to wink at Matthew with a pained grimace.

The younger man tried to help as much as he could, but it was hard. The dried blood caused his shirt to cling to the wound, and as gentle as the Canadian was it was impossible to pull it free without hurting the older man. He knew if he ripped it off like a bandaid it would reopen the wound and be a horrible ordeal for his friend, and so he had to gently pick it off piece by piece. Eventually they could pull it over his head and the blonde could see the full extent of the gouge. It ran from shoulder-blade to shoulder-blade. It was lighter at each edge but the centre was deep enough that Matthew could probably fit up to his first finger joint inside. He didn't test that theory. There were several chunks of plane still stuck inside that needed to be removed.

&How bad is it?& He sounded apprehensive, almost scared.

&It's not that bad at all...& The German shook his head, he could always tell when his friend was lying.

"I'm really sorry Gil' but this is really gonna hurt." Gilbert inhaled deeply through his nose and nodded, signalling that he was ready. Matthew wished he had some tweezers or something, the best he could find was some antiseptic liquid in a small bottle in the medical kit. He rubbed some into his hands and carefully began pulling the shards free. Luckily they were close to the surface and came away easily, but each time he pulled on one his friend would let out a little whimper that made his stomach churn. In reality it took no time at all, but it felt like eternity. When he was finally done Matthew wrapped his arms around his friends middle, carefully avoiding his injury with the awkward hug. "I'm sorry."

The silver-haired man rubbed his friend's arms. "Thank you, help me bandage it too? I can see it being a real pain in my ass to try do it alone." Matthew laughed and pulled away, wiping away tears he hadn't realised he had spilt. He felt a little less embarrassed seeing that Gilbert was wiping away tears too.


End file.
